A Different Path
by CrumpledWings
Summary: set in the 2004 movie climax: What if when Erik forces Christine to make her choice, she chooses him? Can she learn to love the man behind the mask or will she perish with the monster? full summary inside! -story better than summary-
1. Chapter 1 The Choice

Summary: Set in the climax of the 2004 movie by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Joel Schumacher, though I got some of my information from the book. What if, after the kiss, Erik still forced Christine to make her choice, and she picked him? Can she learn to love the man behind the mask? Or will the Christine the world knows perish with the monster?

E/C-Romance-A Different Path-Chap. 1

a/n: Okay, this is my first fanfic, so I'm kinda nervous...please send me feedback; constructive criticism welcome, just please don't be too harsh! if i get at least 2 reviews i'll publish the next chapter (i've already started on it!)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Phantom of the Opera (duh); I am just a HUGE fan!

A Different Path

Christine took Erik's face in her hands and led his lips to her own. At first he was too stunned to respond, but seemed to realize what was happening soon enough and began to kiss her back. It was no small peck; they stayed in each others embrace just long enough for Christine to wonder whether or not it was appropriate. But then, what was appropriate about this situation? And something about his lips sere holding Christine in a very different way than Raoul's ever had. It was Erik who finally pulled away.

"Christine," he whispered quietly. It was so quiet, Christine thought maybe she had imagined it. But how could any human being imagine something that sounded so filled with longing, and desperation?

She gazed up into his endless blue eyes. "Yes." There was a pause, as the two stopped breathing. Even Raoul, as he labored which each breath that might be his last, stilled completely. "Please, Erik, let Raoul go, and I shall stay here with you."

"Christine, no!" the Vicomte rasped. "My life is not worth it! Do not give in to him!"

Christine ignored him and addressed Erik, who was gaping at her in shock. "_Please_."

"Very well." His voice had lost all of the torment and longing it held earlier. He spoke brusquely, as if discussing business affairs, not sealing Christine's fate. "I shall free your precious _Vicomte de Chagny_." He sneered at the title.

And so Raoul was finally freed of the constricting _Punjab_. Christine rushed to him and embraced him tightly as he gasped for air. "Christine, I beg of you, do not throw your life away for me. There is no worse fate!"

"Shhh," she soothed. "Just knowing you are living, free, in the world above, will get me through this nightmare."

"And just knowing you suffer here in agony will destroy any life I attempt to live."

"Raoul, dear Raoul." She smoothed his hair lovingly. "There is no other way. You must go now, but promise me you will live your life to its fullest, without me."

"I can't, Christine, I-"

"You can, I know you can. Remember that I love you." She kissed him quickly and began to walk away, watching as he exited through the rising gate.

"You will tell no one of the events that transpired here. _No one_. Madame Giry will take care of all….loose ends. Heed my warning, _Vicomte_, and do _exactly_ as I say." Erik let his eyes linger over Christine, sending chills down her spine. The threat was clear. "Now go."

"I will never forget you, Christine." He seemed close to tears as he held his cheek where Christine had bestowed her kiss.

"Go!" Erik boomed, loudly enough for Raoul to flee, eyes wide with horror. Then Erik turned to Christine. She still stood in the murky water, her fine wedding gown soaked. She was trembling faintly, but Erik knew she was not cold. "Do not worry, I would never hurt you, so long as I live. But your ex-fiancé does not have to know that. While he thinks I am a monster, I may as well utilize it."

"You_ are_ a monster," she said, pointedly defiant. "I see no Angel before me. Only a phantom."

"If it is the monster you seek," he hissed, "it is the monster you shall have!" Suddenly, she was pressed against him. She struggled to break free, but Erik's arms may as well have been iron bars. Forearms placed on her stomach, he held her securely, right where he wanted. His gloved hand slid up her ribcage and rested just next to her breast. "What's the matter, dear? Frightened of the monster? Alas, this is what you chose, and your darling Vicomte cannot save you now!"

Christine turned to face him. "Ah, but that is where you are wrong. Just thoughts of him shall keep me alive. For even apart, _he_ is the one I love, and he alone."

Fury burned in Erik's eyes. Fury….and pain. He was stung, betrayed. Christine felt remorse kindle in her heart, but she brushed it away. Erik would receive no pity from her. She focused on hardening her expression. _I hate him._

"You say that now, but I wonder whether I cannot change your feelings." His voice conspiratorial, he yanked her closer to him and buried his face in her hair, taking in her scent. She gasped in surprise. He trailed up her neck and along her jaw line, his lips resting at her ear. Hot breath grazed her earlobe.

"Erik…"

He held her face closer, unbearably closer, until she had to take as shallow breaths as possible, or he would kiss her ear. "_Touch me, trust me_." His velvety voice wrapped around her as the familiar lyrics pervaded her mind. He leaned even closer. "_Savor each sensation_." Erik's lips pressed against her temple, the softest kiss she'd ever received. Christine fainted.

7777777

Erik caught Christine as she fell. Holding her in his arms, he began to feel guilty for harassing her. _Damn you, Erik! How can she learn to love you when you treat her in such a horrid way_? She was precious, as valuable and delicate as the white lace on her gown. He hoisted her legs up and carried her to bed, much like he had during her first visit to his home. Her tiny figure was lost in the folds of rich velvet. He brushed a few stray hairs from her forehead and settled at the edge of the bed.

Christine, sweet, beautiful Christine, his angel, was now actually _his_. His bride once she awoke, to spend eternity with him in his underground home, _their _underground home. He had finally won her, and soon she would learn to love him. Soon she would give her gentle heart to him completely. Soon she would forget that idiot Vicomte and be happy with him, would remember her Angel. He would give her everything she could ever want, and she would love him. Erik gripped her hand tightly. He hoped.

7777777

Raoul was pacing nervously and about to knock again when Madame Giry opened the door.

"The Vicomte de Chagny!" Her eyes widened as if she'd expect a dead man to stand at her doorstep before Raoul. She placed a petite hand on her hip. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Madame," Raoul bowed deeply. "I am afraid I must again request your assistance. You see, Christine-"

"Hush!" Madame Giry cast an anxious glance down each end of the hallway. "Do you not know better than to speak so openly of private matters?" Sighing, she pulled him inside her clustered little room. "I am already aware of dear Christine's situation."

Raoul rubbed his neck sorely where Erik's _Punjab _had been. He had been made to rest for the past two days in his home, but he had finally gotten the opportunity to get out. He went straight to the Opera Populaire. Various people had stopped him many times to express their condolences about his fiancée. He could hardly stand it.

"Please, we must…we must-"

"What exactly do you propose we do, monsieur?"

"Anything! The man is mad, Madame, purely mad. He will hurt her, I know he will!"

"While I do not know as much about Erik as I'm sure either of us would like, I am absolutely positive of one thing; he would _never_ harm Christine."

"But, that night, he…"

"He would _never_, and that is my final word on it." She pursed her lips drily.

"What-what did you tell everyone, about Christine? Where do they all believe she is now?"

"Gone. I told the constable she had left because the traumatic experience proved too much for her. Of course, it would be more believable if _you_, her fiancé, were no longer present."

"I'm afraid, Madame, that I cannot do as you suggest. I will not be leaving as long as Christine is here, in the hands of that monster."

"Monsieur, I do not know how you plan to get Christine back. Did you believe that Erik would have a change of heart, and return her to us? Perhaps he is not the only one who is a bit mad."

"…I believe I have an idea as to how we may get her back. But I will need your help." He paused a moment, as if unable to go on.

"And what is it that you need my help with?" Madame Giry asked impatiently.

"We must go down there and rescue her."


	2. Chapter 2 Transitioning

a/n: Sorry I took so long to update! I really wanted to make sure I got this right. Plus, things have been really busy with school and stuff. Well, what are you waiting for? Read!

Disclaimer: Well, unless I'm still asleep and dreaming, I don't own POTO. Too bad.

Music wafted through Erik's home and found its way to Christine's ears, penetrating her dreams and waking her. At first, she hadn't the slightest idea where she was. All she knew was that she was exhausted and must've slept much longer than was per usual, which would explain why the setting was lacking light so severely. Also, the bed she was in was unfamiliar, but very, very comfortable. The velvet covers were soft and cool to the touch. And, of course, there was that _breathtaking_ music drifting through the bedroom. It was quiet, hardly audible, yet ultimately consuming. She sat up in bed as if in a trance, craning her head to hear more of the song. She dare not attempt to stand up, for even the slightest rustling noise would overpower the wonderful tune.

She remained that way for quite a while, half-conscious and enraptured by a mysterious song coming from an equally mysterious source. She closed her eyes. From only one place had she heard music composed so gracefully, music that could be so gentle, yet overwhelming. Yes, she knew of one place in which a song would be treated as it was; powerful, intense, an individual life form. One place…one person. She knew of only one _person_. She stopped cold, realizing that she had been humming along to the song. The previous night's events washed over her. Her decision…oh, that horrible decision. But how could she not make it, when Raoul's life depended so greatly on her? And now she was here, cursed. Forced to live with the phantom, in the catacombs of the opera, with no hope of escaping. The consequences of her actions rushed to her like a gale of wind, and she bowed her head into her hands, weeping.

How could this be, that her fate was to live here, with Erik? The man was awful. Callous, oppressive, dominating. Thinking of him, she felt fear well up inside her 'til she felt ready to burst. And…hate It must have been hate, for she knew of no other emotion as unfamiliar as this. And how could one not hate him, a devil parading as an angel? He was a nightmare set loose on the world. She hated him, she hated him, she _hated_ him. She had to. His face danced in her mind, and every part of her body became aware, magnetic. She felt neither heat nor cold, but shock, coursing through her, each individual hair standing up. Her heat pounded until it drowned out the music, which she no longer craved to hear. That music… It was beautiful, enchanting, but she felt the need to turn from it in disgust. _His music is all you will ever be allowed to hear again._ New sorrow fell upon her, and she gasped loudly as sobs racked her chest.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she heard the music stop. Heard the quick footfalls that grew louder and nearer to the bedroom. And she heard his soft gasp, deceivingly concerned. "Christine." Erik rushed toward her and sat next to her on the bed. He gently held her shaking shoulders, his fingers light and hesitant, as if afraid of rejection. Oh, how could he be so mocking? Why did he pretend to care, when his control over her was so absolute? Unless…he did care what she thought? What if he didn't just want her, but actually love her? What if…?

No, it could never be true. He was a liar, a coldhearted killer. He couldn't have true feelings, save for hatred and sadism. Never would he love. Never, never, never…

She was faintly aware of him pressing the tips of his fingers on the bottom of her chin and turning her face to his. "Never what, dear?" His eyes caught hers, the striking blue of his eyes causing a little jolt to her heart. He was wearing his mask again, the white one. It fit the contours of his right side perfectly, and without prior information, one would never imagine the horrible disfiguration that hid just beneath the surface.

He caught her staring. Stiffening, he straightened his back. "Talking to ourselves, are we? Unless you would actually prefer speaking to me?"

She stared at him, eyes wide with either dislike or fear, she wasn't sure which. "I am not sure what it is you expect me to say, monsieur. Except perhaps to request you leave me, for the time being? I am not proper." Her hands flew up to her bare shoulders.

He stood. "I took the liberty of taking your clothing from your previous residence. You will find it in that closet." He pointed to an elegantly carved closet of cherry wood. She nodded. Without another word, he spun on his heel and exited, dark cape billowing behind him.

Christine gently wiped away her unbidden tears. Standing on shaky legs, she crossed the room to the closet Erik had pointed out to her. Upon opening it, she found all of her clothing, as well as a few other things Erik must have gotten for her. She blushed in surprise when she found them all to be exactly her size. The materials he used were much softer than her original ones. Fingering the fine fabrics, she chose to wear an indigo gown with lace trimmings on the edge. At the thought of leaving the bedroom to face Erik, she felt her stomach twist with uncertainty, and delayed the inevitable meeting by spending a great deal of time running her fingers through her unruly curls.

When she had about doubled the amount of time it typically took her to get dressed, she decided she had to go. Breathing deeply, she stepped out to face her captor.

7777777

Raoul swiftly dressed the next morning and impatiently rushed through his breakfast. His mind was centered on but one thing: Getting to the Populaire and Madame Giry to discuss Christine's rescue. Yesterday, after quite a bit reasoning and quite a lot of pleading, Raoul had convinced Madame Giry to assist him in getting his Christine back. He couldn't wait to begin planning, acting much like an eager schoolboy again. He could not help it; the thought of Christine in the hands of the monster made bile rise in his throat. He couldn't seem to keep still through the agonizingly long carriage ride to the theatre. He found himself tapping his knee, adjusting his clothing, or picking at his nails in a most improper manor. When the carriage stopped, he nearly threw himself out, accidently overpaying the driver in his haste. He rushed up the steps to the Populaire and flung open the doors. Madame Giry was waiting for him near the foot of the stairs.

"Ah, Monsieur de Vicomte, what a wonderful surprise." She swiftly approached him and placed her hand on his arm. "Please, join me for some tea in my flat." Before he could even nod in response, Madame Giry smiled warmly and began leading him through the winding Populaire hallways to her dingy little flat. Totally baffled, he simply watched her as she flitted about the room. She would stop and peer at seemingly random places, occasionally adjusting an object ever so slightly. When she had finished, she huffed and patted her rumpled skirt as if to smooth it, to no appeal.

"Well, why are you just standing about? Take a seat, make yourself comfortable. And do close your mouth, dear."

Raoul obeyed. Madame Giry seemed to be rather flustered today, more brisk and business-like than usual. Again she scurried about the room, then entered another, until finally she rejoined Raoul, a tray of delicious smelling tea in her hands. She poured him a cup.

"I am sorry to keep you waiting as I have, but I am afraid I had to secure my room." Now Raoul openly looked at Madame Giry as if she had gone mad. "Well, what _are_ you staring at? Last night, as I was walking about the opera and checking on the dancers, I saw a shadow pass behind me. And later, as I returned to my room, another. I must tell you, sir, I feared the worst. So I have thrice assessed each inch of my room to ensure that Erik cannot listen in on what is happening inside."

Raoul relaxed into his seat, rather relieved to know his only hope to save Christine had not completely lost her mind. "But, Madame, how can you keep Erik from listening in?"

"Oh, long ago, when he first began to arrange his passageways throughout the Populaire, he offered me privacy. Of course, I accepted. But I fear if he discovers what you and I are doing, he would revoke his offer. While Erik is a man of his word when he finds it just, he would not think twice about taking away my promised privacy if he felt I had betrayed him somehow."

Raoul leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "But we are safe, then?"

"Yes, yes. But in this room only, and Little Meg's."

"Meg's?"

"Well, of course. Did you think I would not insist her privacy as well as my own?" Madame Giry straightened and pursed her lips, oozing refined dignity. "Now, we must plan."

"Yes," Raoul agreed. Excitement coursing through him, he leaned nearer Madame Giry.

She pulled out a map. Shocked, Raoul recognized the weaving tunnels as the catacombs beneath the Populaire. The parchment was old and fading, but he could still make out the black ink markings on the paper. It looked like any normal blueprint, save a few personalized changes. In the largest cellar, the title _Cellar 5_ was crossed out. Madame Giry's precise handwriting just above read "Erik's Home." Also, at various points were asterisks with the names of deadly traps.

Clearing her throat, the ballet mistress began, "Erik had told me where all the traps were, should I wish to visit him. However, I believe we can safely assume he has added to his defenses in light of…recent events." She paused a moment, eyes lost in thought. "I do suppose I could request visiting him, and learn where the new traps are. Alas, I am unsure whether or not he trusts me. Perhaps we could wait a while before…"

"No!" Raoul interrupted, his voice dripping desperation. He grasped Madame Giry's hand. "Please, you must understand. I fear for Christine daily. Imagine what horrors she may be facing below."

Madame Giry considered this for a minute. Raoul could hear a clock ticking quietly in the background. The tiny sounds seemed to imprint upon his mind. _Tick, tick, tick_. Finally, she met his eyes. "Yes, while I do know what greatness Erik holds, I must also agree he has become quite lost in his madness." She sighed deeply and conceded, "We mustn't wait."

"What can we do?"

"I…. I am not sure."

7777777

Christine appeared outside the bedroom sometime later. Erik thought she must have been avoiding him, for he knew she did not take so long to prepare herself. Bowing, he greeted her good afternoon.

Christine nodded politely in reply before inquiring, "Afternoon?" Her cheeks had turned a delicate shade of pink.

"Yes, it is now half past two."

"My, I did sleep long, didn't I?"

"Yes." He gave a slight smile. "Two days."

"I beg your pardon?" she squeaked.

He eyed her carefully as if to say,_ Mind your voice. _"Yes, you were quite exhausted. I am sorry; you hadn't thought it had been only one night?"

"Well, yes…I am not prone to sleeping so long."

"Or fainting," he added wryly. Christine turned an even deeper shade of pink. To save her from further embarrassment, he rushed on, "Are you hungry? Your last meal was…sixty-eight hours ago, I believe."

"Well, yes, I am rather famished, now that you mention it."

"Good. Breakfast is nearly finished. I am glad you already awoke. If you hadn't soon, I would've had to come and wake you.

"Yes, it was fortunate." She suddenly seemed entirely fixed on straightening her perfectly smooth skirt. Erik was pleased to see it was a gown he had made for her. He said as much as they sat down to breakfast.

"I notice you are wearing one of my gowns."

"Yes, thank you. They fit me very well."

"Of course; I was immediately able to asses your _exact_ clothing size, unlike your originals."

"Yes…"

She still seemed unable to meet his eyes. While Erik felt pain stab at his heart, he also wondered: _What has happened to the defiance she showed the other night? She acts so afraid and docile._ While it was still very clear she was not fond of him, her attitude had changed greatly. It made him worry; had his rash behavior frightened her so much, she was jarred into submission? He did not mind the civilized conversations, but it was her _love_ he longed for, not her…obedience. She was to be his wife, not his pet.

"Christine…"

She looked up as if startled. "Yes?"

_What is wrong with me?_ he thought wildly. _What could I possibly say, that she needn't fear me, for, despite my insanity and rage, I would never lash out on her? It seems I already have!_ Thinking this, he felt his guilt increase, for he had never wished to harm her, or cause her discomfort.

"Erik?"

Christine was still waiting for his reply. "Yes, I apologize," he rushed, trying to contain the joy he felt at her saying his name. If she wanted to speak to him, he hadn't _completely_ lost her. Perhaps there was still hope… "I wanted to ask, how are you feeling now?"

"I am well, thank you." Her dark eyes darted about the room, looking anywhere but at him. As though feeling his eyes on her, she seemed completely absorbed with the candelabras he used to light his dark home.

Erik stayed silent, as well. He was unsure what to do about Christine. She couldn't learn to love him if she was afraid to even speak to him. When he finally removed his eyes from her to close them as he rubbed his temples, he could hear her nearly inaudible sigh of relief. He didn't think even she was aware of the sound. Just the fact that she could finally relax against her seat and actually look at him. Erik seized the opportunity and snapped his eyes open, so suddenly she caught his gaze.

She blushed profusely. "I, er, I-"

Erik held her gaze. "_Christine…_" he sang quietly. Her eyes widened as though she were in a daze. He smiled secretly to himself. No matter how she feared him, his singing would always mesmerize her. That was her weakness; music.

He continued singing, _Point of No Return_. Standing, he stalked across the room to her, graceful as a predatory cat going in for the kill. When her part came, she sang without hesitation, her beautiful voice filling the cavernous space. Taking her hands in his, he guided her up, and there they remained, embracing each other as music flooded the catacombs.

a/n: So there you go. This chapter was pretty much transitional, to get Raoul and Madame Giry's plan rolling, as well as Erik and Christine's relationship. They're going to have a lot of bonding time, and I'm planning quite a few confrontations between them, good ad bad. Anyways, I suppose this is my way of asking you to _please_ read and review. Again, constructive criticism is welcome. Thanks to the people who reviewed!


	3. Chapter 3 Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde

a/n: Okay, I know it has been forever; I'm sorry! I had an overload of schoolwork, projects, and research to do. You know, "Do it well or don't graduate"-type stuff. To make it up to you guys, I made this chapter pretty long. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Trust me, if I owned POTO, this story wouldn't be necessary because Christine and Erik would have been together from the start, and Raoul would have fallen of a cliff or something (I really don't like Raoul, like really, really don't.)

Christine was, of course, furious. Not with Erik; no, she had learned her lesson there. It was best to remain impassive and obedient, as far as he was concerned. And besides, she was far too frightened of him to act against him or show defiance in any way. No, it was _herself_ she was upset with. She was angry that she'd met his eyes, responded to his music. She was no longer his yielding little puppet, enamored with the idea of the Angel of Music. She knew his secret, she had seen behind his mask. So why did she still react to him so?

Erik himself was giving her another of his intense, wondering gazes. The icy blue eyes bore down on her, making her feel self-conscious in her musings. Why _did_ she react to Erik the way she did? What were these emotions he stirred? With Raoul, she had always felt safe and comfortable. But with Erik…with Erik she felt electrified. Unsure, yes, but animated. With Erik, she felt like she had been plunged into an entirely unfamiliar milieu. It was intimidating, yet exhilarating. Oh, how his voice invigorated her. She felt those were the times she could best see into his soul. And sometimes, sometimes…when they were together, not singing, just spending time with each other, she could feel that same thrill. Alas, those times were all too rare. He could be such a beast, and she sorely disliked him then. And as long as he decided to go back and forth between Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, she would have to remain uncaring to him, for fear of his darker side.

She sighed quietly in frustration, her eyes wandering away from him. He took hold of her chin, fingers gentle despite the gloves, and lifted her face up to his. There eyes met again, a dangerous encounter. It was about then Christine realized she did not hate him. No, while she strongly disliked the dark, crazed side, the side he showed more often than not these days, she could not hate the man whose lighter side she was so intimate with. This made things very difficult between them. Perhaps she would become two-faced, like him. Half the time, warm and fond, the other half, fearful and obedient. What a horrible way to live!

"Oh, Erik," she whispered.

"Yes, Christine?" he answered.

Her eyes widened as if just realizing she had spoken aloud. Shaking her head, she lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. "I wish..."

"Yes? You wish?" he urged when she didn't go on. "Anything you wish, you shall have. Name it, my dear, name it, and it will be yours."

"You could be so wonderful," she blurted without thinking. She regretted saying it the moment it escaped her lips. Her free hand flew to her mouth. _Oh, Christine, what have you done? _

Erik's expression was unreadable, but he eyed her with the strangest look. She couldn't quite put her finger on the emotion. "What…was…that?" he asked.

"Nothing. It was absolutely nothing."

His eyes darkened. His voice a growl, he pursued, "Christine, tell me." He had frightened her again; he could see it in her dark eyes, the faint tremble in her chin. But she held her ground and kept silent. He sighed, realizing he could not coerce this out of her. Perhaps, if he tried a different tactic…?

"Please," he murmured. "Tell me, Christine."

Her eyes clouded with thought a moment. Well. What did she have left to lose, anyways? Still, she inched backwards until she felt the table dig in to her backside. "There are times…times when you are kind, and wonderful," she began. "And it is then that I feel we are in perfect harmony, that we can see into each other's souls. Oh, Erik, how fond I am of you then!" His eyes widened, radiating with his elation. "But, there are other times when you are wicked, callous, _terrifying_. And then, I find I dislike you. I find I dislike you very much."

He brooded over this for some time. Christine did not hate him, no, but she did not love him, either. He realized he was quite two-faced, at least when it came to her. Oh, but didn't she realize that it was only with her that his kinder, gentler side was revealed? Did she not understand that without her, his uncontrollable, madder personality would dominate him completely? Through his Angel and her dulcet little voice, a tender, compassionate side of him had been brought to light. No, born, he decided. It had not even existed in him before her in his life. Was this concession not enough?

_No_, he reasoned. If Christine wanted more, then he had clearly not provided enough. But he would. There would always be more of him to give, as long as she needed it. _No, she does not love me…not yet._ He smiled, coming out of his cogitations. He would make her love him, and he knew how.

7777777

Christine saw the change in Erik immediately. His eyes lit, his posture straightened. He was literally radiating with joy. Heartbeat quickening, she gripped the table harder. What was he going to do now?

He gently touched her palm, hesitant. She opened her hand and allowed him to intertwine his fingers with hers. "Come with me," he intoned. "I want to show you something."

She nodded, no questions asked. Without knowing exactly why, she trusted him. It must've been his eyes. There was something in his eyes…

Erik guided her to the little boat they had used on her first visit there. He helped her into the small boat and began to row. Dark waters churning, they went further and further into he catacombs. The structures were intricately designed and imperial looking.

"Erik," Christine said. "Surely we have gone far past the opera house now."

"Yes, you are right. These catacombs weave all throughout the city. We have access to all of Paris from below."

She gazed at him in awe. How unbelievable! "Anywhere?"

"Anywhere." He gave her a gentle smile. "Did I not tell you I would give you the world? I meant it! And here it is, at our very fingertips."

"Incredible," she breathed. "Is that where we are headed now? To another locale deep within the heart of Paris?"

He chuckled in response to her enthusiasm. "Yes, but not just any locale."

"Where then, Angel, where? What have you planned?"

"Impatient, are we? My apologies, dear, you will have to wait." She jutted out her rosy lower lip in a playful pout. "We are, however, very close," he conceded with a sigh. Christine clasped her hands together in delight. Freedom! The very thing she had so sorely longed for a mere two hours earlier. Already she could breathe easier, it seemed. The brisk air, gentle motion of the boat, the murky water lapping gently against the helm…it did her wonders. Would this life with Erik be so terrible?

7777777

"Oh, it must be terrible!" Raoul hung his head in his hands. "The misery she is surely enduring…I must save her."

Madame Giry patted his hand. "We _will_ save her, monsieur. I promise you."

"I have half the mind to go down there and rescue her now, this second."

"Don't be absurd!" she chastised. "Or I will conclude you have _only_ a half of a mind. Besides, how well did that plan work the last time you tried it? You must be patient, child, if you wish to get your fiancée back."

"Be patient?" The Vicomte resisted a snort. How could he be patient, when his Christine was just stories below, with-with…_him_? "I am trying, but it is very, _very_ difficult to just sit here, drinking tea, doing nothing!" He bolted from his seat.

"We are not doing 'nothing'. We are being productive, planning,_ biding our time_. Do you understand that?"

"It's not enough," he said curtly and strode off.

"Vicomte!" Madame Giry called. "If you must continue your carping, you would be wise to do so in here, where we are safe from Erik's prying eyes."

Though he was loathe to admit it, Madame Giry was right. Erik had probably taken care of Christine _long _ago (for she was a docile little creature), and could be wandering the Populaire at any moment, waiting to strike. He returned to his seat.

Madame Giry straightened, a pleasant smile upon her lips. She had won. "Tonight, I will go and visit Erik."

"Y-you will? What will you tell him?"

She sighed. "I will tell him that you have continuously pestered me about Christine's well-being. It is not untrue." Her gaze could slice steel. "This will allow me to see what defenses he has included to his lair." _And placate you enough that we may actually strategize_, she added mentally.

Raoul took her hand in his. "Thank you, thank you so much. I am forever in your debt, Madame."

"Yes, you are," she replied as she stood. "Now, will you be going, or…"

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to wait here, at the opera, so as to be here for your homecoming."

"Very well."

7777777

Erik stopped the boat. "We have arrived." He stepped out and assisted Christine. She took in her surroundings with a queer look.

"Where are we?" she inquired.

"Come, Christine." Taking her hand, he led her through a small passageway. The scent of moss was heady and the thick, dank air nearly smothered them. Christine eyed the crumbling walls doubtfully. She sniffed the stench-filled air.

"Erik? Where…?"

He pressed his index finger against her lips. Her breath caught. "Patience, Angel."

She knit her brow at him. "I have been patient all afternoon, Erik."

Wordlessly, he continued to lead her through the passageway. It was very dark, and Christine would often stumble. Or worse, a few times she had felt something _touch_ her, which had caused her to rear back with a barely held in screech upon her lips. But each time, Erik caught her, soothed her, and continued to guide her.

Just when Christine was convinced they would never get out, a faint light showed at the end of the passageway. Eyes glued to it, she glided towards it in a dazed state. "Oh look!" she cried as she gave Erik's hand a gentle tug. Chuckling softly, he steered Christine from behind, gloved hands on her hips. They reached a door, light escaping from cracks along the sides. To Christine's great surprise and, yes, great amusement, Erik set his fingers over her eyes. She giggled. "Is this really necessary?"

"Yes," he replied, and Christine could hear the smile in his voice. "I want you to have the…complete experience when you open your eyes." One of his thumbs strayed from its appointed position and gently stroked her temple. She tried to suppress shivers of delight. One of Erik's many qualities…though his touch could hold as much power as his voice, it was always so soft. As if one wrong move and Christine would shatter into a thousand pieces. Not like Raoul, who held her as though she were an old friend, lacking either delicate softness or passionate force. Erik, _her_ Erik (the kind and sweet one so dear to her) was always careful with her. She remembered when, as girls, she and Meg had found a baby bird with an injured wing. They'd taken it to Madam Giry, who had nursed it back to health. The delicacy with which Madam Giry had handled the bird-that was how Erik handled Christine. It was a wonderful feeling.

Sighing, she leaned back into Erik before realizing what she was doing. Hearing his gasp, she smiled. _This is how we could be_, she thought, _if only you always had such a sweet disposition._ As if hearing her thoughts, Erik stroked her temple again. Christine felt him open the door around her with his foot (his hands were still clasped tightly around her eyes). Feeling a sudden light spread over her face, she leaned forward with anticipation. She knew they'd arrived; she could feel it.

a/n: Ohmigod! "Sarah is just so evil!" Yeah, I know. Actually, I thought of an awesome way to get more reviews. I don't really know where Erik should take Christine…it is up to you! Send me reviews as to where they should be…the more detail the better. And if you see a suggestion you like, just say "I agree with [insert name here]; they should go to [insert place here]". Thanks you guys! I know I need a lot of patience. :D


End file.
